The Longest Night
by 2Old4This2
Summary: Han is seriously injured while on a mission with Leia. Leia struggles to keep him alive through the night. Hurt/comfort along with the angst.
1. Chapter 1

**The Longest Night**

A _Star Wars_ Fan Fiction

_Authors note: This story is completely written. I'm going to post a chapter every other day, in order to facilitate my need to edit to insanity and to enable my very wonderful beta reader jublke to do her thing. The story takes place shortly after ROTJ._

_Disclaimer: _Star Wars _belongs to Disney, obviously, and not to me. No copyright infringement is intended._

The speeder flew through the remains of the city, dodging heaps of rubble and occasionally clipping a side fin, when the space Han chose to race through wasn't quite big enough to accommodate the elderly vehicle he was piloting. Leia held onto the side of the speeder with one desperate hand. The other hand, equally desperate, fired her blaster at their pursuers.

"Haven't you hit anybody yet?" Han yelled, steering wildly around the skeleton of a doorway.

"Every time I hit one of them, another one just takes his place!"

The supply of stormtroopers seemed to be never ending. That wasn't good. The high-pitched wheezing sound the speeder was making, that wasn't good either. Being back on the _Falcon_ with Luke, Chewie and the droids—now that would be good. But no, Leia had felt duty-bound to view the ruin of Toprawa firsthand, as if somehow she were responsible for its destruction, instead of the Empire.

Han had told Leia he thought it might be a trap, but she told him that visiting a world decimated by the Empire would show them how the New Republic could help. She had told him he didn't need to come, that she was perfectly able to take care of herself, but he just raised an eyebrow in response and asked her since when. She told him there would be a local representative of their new government there to be her guide; he told her the guide was probably a snitch, and that maybe the news of the Emperor's death hadn't made it to the Outer Rim yet. She told him she wasn't afraid. But there had never been a doubt but that Han was going with her—and that made her feel better, like it always did.

Leia was never naïve enough to believe that the war would be over just because Emperor Palpatine was dead. It was a big galaxy, and she understood there would be pockets of diehards who would continue to fight long after there was nothing left to fight for. There were even worlds that believed they would be better off under the Empire than the New Republic. But she hadn't expected that kind of resistance on this particular world, which had been punished so harshly by the late Emperor. So, when the stormtroopers had first jumped them—when they had first realized it was a trap—Leia had been dumbfounded. But Han hadn't. Instead, he grabbed their escort by the collar, who it turned out was a snitch, and threw him out of the speeder into the dust. Then he commandeered the speeder, and was now driving the antiquated vehicle with a speed and agility that shouldn't be possible. At first, Leia even thought they might actually get away; now, she wasn't quite so sure.

Another wheeze, which sounded ominously like a death rattle, issued from the speeder's engine compartment. Han pounded his fist on the control panel and the wheezing stopped. His responding smile was a mixture of relief and self-satisfaction.

"It's good to know that all the skills you've picked up flying that miserable excuse for a freighter are useful," Leia observed. She fired off another volley of shots at the pursuing speeder bikes. It looked like they were getting closer. "Can you make this thing go any faster?" she asked him.

"Sweetheart, we're already _going_ faster than it can go!" He turned his head, just for a fraction of a second, to flash her a lopsided grin. Leia couldn't help herself, she grinned back, then returned to firing at the pursuing stormtroopers. Two went down, no new ones joined the chase. Now, if they could just get a little further away…

"Uh, oh."

Those were almost the last words Leia would ever hear. The whine of the overtaxed speeder's engine reached an ear-shattering pitch, then, with one final clunk, its generator gave out altogether. The vehicle continued to rocket forward through sheer momentum, but as the repulsor field failed, the speeder began bottoming out in the rubble littering the ground, and its forward motion slowed.

Han did his best to steer the dying craft toward the shelter of some twisted trees; it was only as they wobbled closer that he saw his mistake. Beyond the copse the ground disappeared. He had no idea how far down the drop was, but he knew that finding out wouldn't be good. Wasting no time on words, Han grabbed Leia by the shoulders and flung her out of the speeder, away from the drop. She felt herself bounce onto the uneven ground and tumble downward as Han threw himself after her. The speeder veered right, bounced into a wall, and exploded into a ball of fiery blue-white energy and shrapnel. Then Leia's world went dark.

**Pain was the first thing Leia became aware of; it twisted and snarled inside her like a living thing. **She sucked air into her lungs, relieved to find that she could still do so. A few more breaths and the pain went from being completely overpowering to just about bearable. Idly, she noticed that the left side of her face felt as if there were hundreds of pins and needles sticking into it. When she lifted her head, she discovered that this made that particular set of pains became nothing more than a dull burning sensation. Encouraged by her success, she tested other parts of her anatomy, and was pleased to discover that all of them still seemed to be in working order. Knowing that she probably wouldn't like what she would see, she'd left the task of opening her eyes until last. She rubbed dirt and sand away from her face with a shaky hand, then slowly cracked the lids open, blinking away what seemed to be a planet full of grit.

What she saw made her want to close them again. Night was falling; she'd been out longer than she'd thought. Leia discovered that she'd landed halfway down a steep embankment, and was now lying wedged in the hollow of an exposed tree root. She hadn't realized how hilly the landscape was, away from where they'd landed the _Falcon_. Well, at least she hadn't gone over the cliff, which was the direction she thought she'd been heading. The speeder hadn't gone over the cliff, either, but it might as well have. At the top of the embankment, its remains burned merrily; the orange flames occasionally sparking with blue, or green, or violet, as some particular metal or chemical incinerated. It looked like fireworks. She slowly scanned the surrounding area, but saw no sign of the stormtroopers who'd been chasing them. They probably assumed they'd been fried inside the speeder.

Wait a minute: speeder, stormtroopers, running for their lives…

"Han!" At first, she couldn't get her voice to work. She tried again.

"Han! Han!" A potent combination of adrenaline and panic shot her to her feet, and had her clinging woozily to the twisted tree for support.

"Han!" Leia yelled as loud as she could; then she listened. The air was filled with sounds—snapping and popping from the burning speeder, the rustling of the wind in the tree branches, small creatures in the brush. None of it was the one thing she wanted to hear—the voice she desperately needed to hear.

"Han," she whispered. "Han, where are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: My thanks to GreatOne and Diz for your reviews. And, again, many, many, many thanks to jublke for your beta work. My work looks better because of you!_

**The Longest Night**

_Chapter Two_

Scrambling along the rubble covered embankment, Leia didn't notice that her hands were bleeding. Or maybe she did notice and it just wasn't important to her. Every fiber of her being was concentrated on locating Han Solo, or at least some sign of him. Each struggling step brought her closer to the burning speeder, and the very real possibility that after he'd thrown her clear, Han hadn't been able to follow after her. The thought of him trapped inside that inferno made her retch; she fell to her hands and knees and heaved until there was nothing left inside her. Exhausted, she turned around, dropped into the dirt, and sobbed.

It was this act that found him.

At first she wasn't sure what she was seeing. It looked like nothing more than a dark bundle, abandoned against a rock, but the fire flared and illuminated his face, just for a second. It was all Leia needed.

"Han!" she called as she scurried over rocks and branches, not slowing until she reached his side. She didn't see any sign of an injury; half on his side, half on his back, he looked like he was only sleeping. But when she grabbed his hand, his skin was cold, and when she shook him, his head lolled. A wave of fear rolled over her. Gods, he wasn't—no,he couldn't be—dead? She put her hand on his chest, not allowing herself to breathe until she felt its shallow rise and fall. Moving her hand to his neck she felt his pulse, uneven and thready. She squeezed the limp hand.

"Han," she said, "it's going to be okay." Impulsively, Leia bent down to kiss his cheek, running her fingers through his hair. It felt sticky and stiff. That was odd. When she pulled her hand away, she could see by the light of the burning speeder, that the sticky substance was blood. The explosion must have thrown him against the boulder, she realized. Now that she knew, she could see a smeared streaking one of the rock's jagged edges. It was blood.

Leia knew Han needed help quickly. She reached her hand down to pull her comlink out of her pocket. She wasn't sure exactly where they'd ended up after that wild ride, but she was certain that between Luke and Chewie, and with Artoo's sensors, someone would be able to find them. Han needed to get to a full medcenter as soon as possible, but at least the medbay on the _Falcon_ would be able to stabilize him until they could get to one. Leia batted first at one pocket, then at the other, looking for her 'link. Her hands froze in disbelief; there was no comlink. She repeated the search, but twice nothing was still nothing. Her comlink, and everything else she'd had with her, had been in the speeder. Now they were so much ash.

Okay, she told herself, that wasn't a problem—she'd just use Han's link. Leia surveyed his still form. She didn't know what other injuries he might have sustained, so she'd have to be careful not to move him too much. Gently, she felt around his gun belt, but there was no sign of a comlink. She pulled the blaster from its holster and set it aside; she was glad to have it, since hers was gone. Next, she unbuckled the belt and undid the thong tied around his thigh. He'd be more comfortable without the extra weight, she thought, and it was blocking his pockets—both of which were empty, she soon discovered. Stay calm, she admonished herself, there were dozens of pockets in his vest, the comlink must be in one of them.

Leia reached her hand toward him to continue her search, then stopped. She looked at his face, and a shiver of premonition passed through her; he was as still as death. Instead she brushed her fingers against one cheek, feeling its unnatural coolness beneath the stubble of his whiskers. He should have woken up by now; she needed that link. As she plunged her hand into one pocket after another, a growing sense of urgency gnawed at her. But, while she found quite a variety of small treasures—a few stray credits, a small, emergency glow rod, a length of line, a pocket knife, and an extra power pack for his blaster—there was no comlink. Without a comlink, they were all alone.

Helpless.

Or, rather, she was all alone and helpless, with a possibly dying man. But Leia Organa was not helpless, and Han Solo was not going to die lying in the dirt on some backwater, bombed out planet—not while she had any say in the matter. With head injuries, she knew, you need to keep the person awake. Okay. It was time for Han to wake up. Leia squared her shoulders and grasped his arm.

"Han, wake up," she ordered the unconscious man. "We're in a little bit of trouble here." She shook his arm. There was no response. Fine, she would appeal to his over-inflated ego. "Listen," she continued, "you're always telling me I don't have to do everything myself. Fine, I could use your help now." She shook harder—but there was still nothing. "I can't believe you're just going to give up now; you never let a little thing like bad odds stand in your way." Struggling against the panic she could feel building inside her, she continued. "After all we've been through, now you're going to just…" She stopped; she couldn't finish that thought. Instead, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Damn it, flyboy," she whispered, "I need you."

Leia jerked back in surprise when he moaned. She'd just about given up hope. Catching herself before she toppled over onto her backside, she shook Han's arm one more time. "C'mon," she cajoled, "open your eyes." There was another moan, then Han's eyes blinked open. Finally.

"Hey," he said weakly. It was the most beautiful thing Leia had ever heard.

"Took you long enough," she scolded. "How do you feel?" It was a stupid question, Leia thought, but she asked it anyway.

"I feel terrible," he admitted. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Leia asked in concern; severe head injuries could cause memory loss.

"Gimme a minute!" he barked back. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head.

As he did, she watched him appraisingly; his eyes were focused and he seemed to know who he was—and who she was. Maybe things weren't as bad as she'd thought. Thank the gods for that, she wasn't feeling the best herself, at the moment. Now that he was awake, they could work together on getting out of here.

"Stormtroopers," Han began, as the memories slowly came back, "_kriffing_ snitch, cliff…Leia, are you alright?" He levered himself up onto his elbows, then immediately fell back onto the ground with a cry of pain. His face, which had been pale before, was now bone white.

"Hey, take it slow. You banged your head pretty hard."

It took an awfully long time, in her estimate, for Han to regain control. When he looked at her, his eyes were swimming in tears. Leia's heart lurched. He must be in terrible pain; she'd never seen tears from him before.

"Oh!" he groaned. Then, steadying himself, he focused on her again. "Are you okay?" he repeated. "You've got blood on you."

"It's mostly yours," Leia explained. She rubbed her hands down her pants legs, rubbing as much of the blood off as she could. "There's a big gash on the back of your head. Do you remember the crash?"

Han concentrated for a moment. "Nope. Why do I expect I'm not missing much?" he quipped.

"I don't know, it was a pretty spectacular crash," she joked back. "You must have been too close to the speeder when it blew. I'm guessing you hit this boulder pretty hard." She rapped her knuckles on the offending outcropping. "It might even be harder than your head."

"That's right, your Worship, hit a man when he's down." Han managed a wry smile. "Have you commed Chewie yet?"

"That's a problem," Leia admitted. "I lost my comlink in the crash."

"So why don't you use mine?"

"I'd be happy to. Where is it?"

Han gave it some thought. "It was right next to me on the seat." He looked up at Leia. "Where's the speeder now?" he asked her.

"Slowly burning down to its component atoms," she said sourly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

He turned his head, ever so slightly, to look at the dying flames of what had been their only way out. When he turned back to face her, Leia noted his breathing was uneven and there were beads of sweat dotting his upper lip. Something else must be wrong with him, other than the head wound, she decided. She needed to find out what.

"Are you feeling…" she began, but Han didn't let her finish.

"You know, Luke and Chewie are gonna come looking for us, we just have to wait."

"They have no idea where we went, or how long it was going to take us to get back."

"Can you _think_ to Luke?" Han stopped and coughed, "you know, uh," Han's eyes drooped closed, then opened halfway. He was obviously struggling. "tap into his, uh, Jedi superpowers?" He coughed again.

"Han, what's wrong?" Leia didn't even try to hide her alarm now. "Do you have a headache? Are you dizzy?"

"It's not my head," he explained weakly. "Every time I try to breath, it hurts." He stopped to rest. "I feel like there's something pressing on me. I think I might have a broken rib." He tried to smile again. "Or maybe they're all broken."

Leia hadn't thought about broken bones. She should have, but she was having a hard time focusing. She hoped she didn't have a head injury too—she had to stay together for Han. "You're probably right about that," she agreed, "You did fly pretty far. Maybe if we can wrap them, that will help." She looked around, hoping to see something she could use to give his ribcage some support. "Until we can get back to the _Falcon_," she added, "that's pretty much all I can do."

"If we get back," Han countered.

"We're going to get back." She squinted in the direction of a small shack that seemed reasonably intact, her vision wavering a little. Maybe after she took care of his ribs it would be safe for them to move there for shelter. It was getting dark, and cold. They might end up spending the night out here, it would be better if they had someplace safe. "Don't try to get up," she warned him, "I'm going to see if I can find something to wrap up your ribs."

"Not going anywhere," Han answered.

Skidding along the embankment, Leia thought she saw something flutter. Holding Han's blaster at the ready, she skirted behind a clump of scrubby weeds. Curtains! It was curtains from someone's long abandoned home. Maybe their luck was finally going to change. With those, Han's knife, and the line he'd had with him, she should be able to rig something to ease his pain. He'd love the delicate floral pattern in the fabric.

Han was either asleep or passed out when she climbed back up to him. She shook him. "Wake up! I found something to help." He watched her with bleary eyes as she sliced the fabric into strips. "This isn't perfect, but I'm sure it will help with the pain." Raising herself up on her knees, Leia reached over to turn Han on his side. "Do you think you can roll over a little?" she asked him. "I'll help."

Grimacing with pain, Han did what he could to roll to one side. Leia reached over, makeshift bandages in one hand. As he shifted, she gave a little cry and let the fabric fall. Han's ribs might or might not be broken, but that wasn't the big problem. A piece of metal, the same sickly green color as the speeder, protruded from the small of his back.

He'd been impaled.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: A big thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. I hope I messaged all of you. If not, my bad, and thank you again!_

_ A huge thank you goes to julbke for her insightful beta reading. Your help is greatly appreciated._

**The Longest Night**

_**Chapter 3**_

Leia seemed to be looking through a tunnel where everything was gray-white and an odd rushing sound filled her head.

"Leia? Leia! What is it? Are you okay?" Han was calling her name and trying to sit up. That was enough to bring her back to her senses.

"No!" she yelled, grabbing him, holding him still. "Don't move."

Han looked at her; something in her tone, probably the sheer terror, warned him that something was very badly wrong. "What is it?" he asked.

Leia looked away. She swallowed twice, then turned back. "It's not your ribs," she said. She hated how shaky her voice sounded. "Well, they might be broken, for all I know, but that's not the real problem. There's a piece of the speeder, about this big," she held her hands apart to show him, "stuck in your back. Down here." She pointed at her own back, just above the right hip.

Very little frightened Han Solo—Leia couldn't remember anything that did—but this information sent him into a panic. He twisted around and tried to reach the piece of durasteel in his back. That effort, in turn, sent him into spasms of coughing.

"Stop it, Han! Stop!" Leia grabbed his flailing hands and pushed them away. Then she held his head and shoulders against her chest as coughed and gasped for breath. When he finally calmed, he was covered in a film of sweat. "Shhh." She stroked his matted hair. "Shhh." She helped him lie back down.

"You can't get it out?" he asked.

"No. I won't even try, it might be blocking an artery. If I pull it out, you could bleed to death. It has to stay where it is." She kissed his forehead. "I'm so sorry."

"Probably not as sorry as I am," Han quipped.

I wouldn't bet on it, she thought. Leia was pretty sure Han had no idea how she felt—a numbing combination terror and despair—but she wasn't about to argue the point with him now. "Only you would make a joke," she chided gently.

"I just found out that it hurts less to joke than to be terrified." Han shifted his body, looking for a more comfortable position, but obviously couldn't find one. "Ahhh," he groaned, finally giving up the attempt and closing his eyes. Leia felt her heart spasm painfully in response. They both stayed there, unmoving, for what seemed like a long time. Only Han's pained breathing broke the silence.

"So, your Worship, what now?" Han's voice rose from the dark

Leia jumped, wincing as her own aches made themselves known. Gods! Had she actually fallen asleep? She was feeling a little lightheaded; but she'd only been stunned—well maybe unconscious—for a minute or so. Obviously affecting her. Terrific. Well, she was just going to have to work around it. She needed to be strong for Han, like he always was for her.

"Uh, Leia?" Han twisted a little, trying to see her, when she didn't answer right away.

"I don't know what now," she admitted quickly, holding him steady. "Do you have any ideas?" She'd been counting on his help.

"Nope. But you're usually the brains of the operation," he reminded her, a touch of acid in his tone. Gods, he was infuriating, even now! But before Leia could come up with a reasonable retort, Han was gripped with another fit of coughing. When he was through, he lay still, his breathing worse, and there was nothing she could say.

"So, when are you leaving?"

"What?" she yelled. Han's question came as such a surprise that Leia actually shouted at him. "What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere!"

Han held up a hand, as if he needed to protect himself from the angry princess. She was so furious at him just then, maybe it was a good thing he did. He drew a shaky breath before continuing. "You can't just sit here," he began. Leia continued to glare. "Look," he went on reasonably, "no one knows where we are, so nobody can come and get us." Han paused for another careful breath. "So, someone needs to go and find some way to contact the _Falcon._ That someone isn't going to be me, so it has to be you." He was deadly serious now.

"I'm not…!" Leia began angrily. She stopped, collected her scattered thoughts, and began again. "I can't leave you alone here," she explained. "I know you're a good shot, but I don't think you could hit a slow-moving dewback in your condition." Leia smiled at the irony. "I hate to ruin your image, tough guy, but right now you need _me _to protect _you._"

Han smiled back, a feeble shadow of his crooked grin. "So you figured it out, huh?"

"Figured what out?"

"That it's Luke's job to get the bad guys, and my job to protect the Princess."

"Yeah, I figured it out, Flyboy." Leia smiled past the tears that threatened to fall. She held his hand in both of hers.

"Leia, I don't want to scare you…" Those were words Leia had never heard Han say before, and they scared the life out of her. "…but I don't know if I'm gonna get out of this one. No," Han cut her off before she could object. "I feel like an engine that's cooling down, and eventually it's gonna shut off completely." He shut his eyes, probably so he couldn't see the look on her face, Leia thought. "Unless we get outta here pretty fast, I think that's what's gonna happen. I'm just gonna shut down." He opened his tired eyes and met her tear-filled ones straight on. "You're going to have to leave me here if you want either one of us to survive."

Leia didn't move, except for a kind of shivering shudder. When she finally spoke, the tears were gone. Her eyes seemed to spark. "Han Solo! _I hate it when you're noble!"_ She spoke with such vehemence, Han laughed in spite of the pain, which only brought on another series of coughs. They were sounding worse. Leia held him through the paroxysms; then rested his head in her lap. She placed one hand on his pale cheek. "And I hate it when you're right," she added softly.

The next few minutes weren't particularly pleasant for either of them. While they argued over who should have the blaster: _"What about the stormtroopers?" "Don't worry, I'll just play dead! Almost there anyway." _and whether they should try to move Han somewhere more sheltered: _"You're the one who said I shouldn't move!" "Do you __**want**__ them to find you?" _what they really were thinking was that there was a possibility that they would never see each other again. That was as painful as any physical injury either of them had.

Finally, with Han as sheltered and secure as they could safely make him, and Leia clutching the blaster and the glow rod, they were ready. Leia had gathered leaves and moss to make a soft, crude, cushion to support Han's upper body. She'd strung the length of line between two trees to create a tripwire of sorts, hopefully stopping anyone from getting too close. Han had the pocket knife, and would indeed 'play dead'. If someone got close to him, he could defend himself with the small blade. They both knew it all offered very little protection, but it was the best they could do. Leia would backtrack the route they'd taken earlier in the speeder—as best as anyone could follow that wild trip—in the hope that she would find her way back to the ship; or that Luke or Chewbacca would be following that route looking for them.

They looked at each other. "Leia," Han began.

"I know," she interrupted.

"Do you?"

"I know you love me, Nerfherder." Leia's voice was low and rough. "I love you, too." She leaned over to kiss him, full on the mouth this time. Han moved his hand up to cup behind her head, bringing her closer. Then Leia pulled away, straightened up, and left without another word. Han watched her go. There wasn't anything more for either of them to say.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I hope I got you all. The site has been a little weird about when I actually got notified of a new review or message. _

_Thanks, again, to jublke for terrific beta-reading. _

_And finally, Woohoo! I'm still on schedule with this story. Barely._

**The Longest Night**

_Chapter Four_

Princess Leia Organa was not happy. Not happy at all. She was also cold, sore, scared, and just a little bit woozy. Oh, and lost; she mustn't leave out lost. That probably had something to do with the fact that she was having trouble keeping her eyes focused—and her brain focused.

Of course, if their wild ride earlier had actually followed the road for any length of time, she probably wouldn't be lost either, but there was nothing that could be done about that now. Leia shined the glow rod ahead of her, but its light seemed woefully inadequate to the task of illuminating the path she was trying to follow. As if to emphasize the point, her foot caught under an unseen tree root and she pitched forward, barely catching herself on the tree's twisted trunk. She swore, borrowing one of Han's more pungent Corellian curses. It was both blasphemous and indecent, but she thought it suited the situation nicely.

She leaned against the tree to catch her breath, and to let the stars clear from in front of her eyes. She felt tears begin to form behind her closed lids, and quickly willed them away. Alderaanian Princesses _did not cry. _She wondered if princesses from other worlds were taught that when they were children. Years of training had also taught her that a princess must calmly view a crisis, weigh all the options available, and choose the one that would serve her subjects the best. Right now she had just one subject—Han—and what would serve him best would be to find a way to get him off this _kriffing _rock and to a medcenter!

Leia knew what her options were; she only had one. She needed to contact the _Falcon._ And without a comlink, there was only one way she was going to do it. She was going to have to reach out to Luke through the Force. It wasn't as easy for her as it was for her brother, probably because the idea of using the Force still scared the _sithspit _out of her. Luke had warned her how easy it was to succumb to the dark side. However, right now, the thought of not being able to help Han scared her more than that possibilty, so she would just have to ignore the scary part.

Doing her best to clear her mind of all thoughts, like Luke had taught her, Leia pulled away from the tree to stand upright, balancing her weight evenly between her two feet. She shut her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to pull up energy from the very core of the planet.

_Luke,_ she thought, _Luke! Can you hear me, or feel me, or whatever it is? I need you!_

She held her breath. Standing there with her eyes closed, waiting for some sort of mental acknowledgement from her twin, made Leia feel foolish. Especially when she heard nothing. Of course she heard nothing, what did she expect? She should have paid more attention when Luke was trying to teach her, or maybe she could have taken the whole thing a little more seriously. But she hadn't, and now was not the time for could haves or should haves. Han's life was hanging in the balance.

Her thoughts always circled back to Han. Leaving him there, alone and hurting, had felt so wrong. But she knew it was the right thing to do. Even Han had told her it was the right thing to do. If she only knew that he was alright. Leia reached out with the Force again, this time searching for the precious, intimate essence of her lover. She didn't feel anything, but, then, she hadn't really expected to. Han usually kept his Force sense carefully locked away, unconsciously protecting that which he claimed he didn't believe in. The only time he was completely unguarded was when they were making love. When he had his arms around her, when he was touching her, kissing her—then he seemed to positively broadcast Force. And that was the only time her own Force abilities didn't scare her. Leia caught herself grinning, and quickly wiped it away again. Honestly, you'd think she was some besotted bantha brain the way her body reacted. But all she had to do was remember Han's pale face and pain-wracked body, and all the warmth was sucked right out of her. With a final, unformed mental call to her brother, Leia continued on her way.

Well, she thought, as she trudged along the pitted surface of what used to be a road, she'd wanted to see the destruction of Toprawa first hand. She certainly was getting a complete picture of it now. Six years ago, it had been a beautiful, modern world. The Empire had based research and data storage facilities here; the plans for the first Death Star were stolen from here. Leia had received those stolen plans and the Alliance had used them to destroy the space station. In retaliation, the Empire had punished Toprawa's inhabitants—destroying their cities and their livelihoods, and forcing them to live in the most primitive conditions. She'd always felt responsible for what happened to the Torprawans, even though she knew that was ridiculous. So she'd come here, representing the New Republic that had benefitted from their sacrifice, hoping she could help them, somehow—her act of contrition. But, gods, please don't take Han's life as her penance!

Leia stopped as she reached a crossroad. She held the glow rod over her head, looking for any kind of sign telling her which direction the crude spaceport was. A real sign, would be great, but that was probably hoping for a bit too much. In the dark, all she could see for sure, was that the road seemed as if there had been a little more traffic off to her right. More traffic meant more people wanted to go there, which in turn implied there were probably more people there. The spaceport was probably in that direction. So, she would go right.

The patch of light issuing from the glow rod flickered with the violence of Leia's shivers. _Stang, _it was cold, she thought. Of course, the simple, utilitarian tunic she'd put on that morning wasn't designed for wilderness expeditions. And neither had she expected to be taking a midnight hike. Han must be freezing, even though she'd covered him with her jacket before she left him. Unconsciously, she picked up her pace; her footsteps sounding unnaturally loud on the empty road.

She was so lost in her thoughts that Leia didn't immediately notice the high-pitched whine of the speeder bike. Not until the beam from the bike's headlamp cut across her path, mere meters from where she was standing, did she have the presence of mind to dive for cover. Watching as it drew closer, she could see that its rider was an Imperial scout trooper. For a brief moment she considered jumping out into the road to get his attention, in the hopes that he would get Han the medical attention he so sorely needed. In the end, however, logic won out. With the Imperial Forces in disarray, they wouldn't bother with medical care for a known rebel—they'd just execute him.

Leia watched the speeder bike pass her by. It took the road to the right; it looked like she'd been heading in the right direction. She sat down on the broken wall she'd been hidden behind; she needed a few minutes to rest. This was some rescue! The irony of that thought didn't escape her. She'd snapped those same words at Han in the detention block corridor on the Death Star. She regretted those words. Heroic rescues weren't quite so easy when you were the one doing the rescuing.

It was hard to believe how much her life had changed in the five years that had passed since that rescue. Emperor Palpatine was dead; the Empire was falling apart. Instead of a rebellion to fight, now there was a new republic to fight for. But, she also had found a brother, and a lover. Except that Han was more than a lover. He was—everything. How often did she lose track of that, when she was being a princess? She needed to figure out where the princess ended and Leia began. She needed to think about the people closest to her more, and her duties less, before it was too late for all of them.

Only once in the past five years, could she recall making a decision for herself alone, well, for herself and one other person. That was when she decided to march into Jabba's palace to rescue Han. That had been the most important decision of her life, she realized now, with a kind of laser-like clarity she didn't often experience. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, the one holding Han's blaster, and realized there were tears streaming down her face. She didn't even try to stop them; maybe a princess wouldn't cry, but Leia really needed to right now.

_Luke! _She positively screamed for him through the Force. _Luke, can't you figure out we need your help. Luke, we can't let him die!_

Standing there, sobbing, gulping for air, Leia didn't hear the rustling of the undergrowth. She didn't see the figure slip out of the bushes and stand in front of her.

"Why did you call me?" it asked.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who read, reviewed, and followed this story. I try to message everyone but this past week has been a comedy of errors including my ISP, Geeksquad, and two days where every message from was going into my spam folder. I'm happy to report it's all fixed now._

_Once again, thanks to jublke for her fantastic beta work. _

**The Longest Night**

_Chapter 5_

"Why did you call me?" the voice demanded for a second time. It was a small, harmless sounding voice, speaking Basic with an accent so thick, Leia could barely understand it. She leveled the blaster in its direction without a moment's hesitation.

"Come out here where I can see you," she ordered. She waited, her blaster never wavering, as more crackling and rustling sounds issued from the clump of bushes. Leia's eyes widened as a dark-haired child in tattered clothes appeared in front of her. He eyed her weapon with undisguised fear.

He was a small boy, even by Leia's petite standards, but his eyes looked old beyond his years. No child's eyes should look like that, she thought. He was just one more piece of Emperor Palpatine's legacy.

Unless he was part of a trap. She wouldn't put it past a desperate stormtrooper to use a child as bait.

"Don't move," Leia warned. She blinked her eyes-her vision seemed to be wavering. When she looked at the boy, his image seemed almost fuzzy around the edges, like a badly tuned holo.

"I heard you call," he said. "I came because you called for help." He looked at her, but never stopped watching the blaster. "I came to help you, not to hurt you." he said, with a certain mocking logic that reminded her of Han.

Han. Leia pictured him, hurt and alone. Never mind how this child came to be here—maybe the Force had sent him, for all she knew! She didn't have time to solve that puzzle, Han didn't have the time. All she cared about was that this boy could help her. "What's your name?" Leia asked him.

"Andor."

"Andor, where are your parents?"

The boy looked pointedly at the blaster she still was aiming at him and said nothing. Obviously he wasn't going to answer her questions until she put it away. That was smart, living on a world controlled by stormtroopers.

"Are you going to run away?" Leia asked him. He was Han's only hope right now, she couldn't let him escape.

"Why would I run away? You called me."

Leia curbed an irrational desire to take the child and shake him. It was the same effect Han had on her most of the time. She lowered the blaster to her side, and watched him as carefully as he was watching her, but Andor gave no indication that he was going to run.

"I didn't call you," Leia explained, "but I do need your help. Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any parents," Andor said. "I never have."

Leia wanted to scream. "Who takes care of you?" she asked through clenched teeth. "I need someone responsible who can…"

Andor cut her off. "I take care of myself." He placed a hand in the middle of his chest. "I don't need anybody but me." He was obviously proud of the fact.

Leia took a deep breath. "Look, Andor, I need your help." She held up her hand to stop him from telling her again that she'd called him. "I have a friend; he's been hurt. I need someone who can go to the spaceport and bring help. I have other friends there. My brother is there."

"I know," he said with a cheeky grin.

Leia swore she could feel the planet wobble on its axis as she grappled with that last statement. "What do you mean _you know_?" she asked.

"You need help; your friend needs help. When you called for help, I heard you," Andor explained patiently. Was the little brat actually smirking at her? He seemed smart enough; maybe he was older than he looked. And why was it he seemed so familiar? She took another deep breath to clear her mind—her thoughts seemed to be wandering again.

"I know I didn't call you, so how could you possibly hear me?" she asked the boy. He opened his mouth, but Leia wouldn't let him speak. "I certainly didn't tell you anything, since I've never seen you before. So, how do you _know_ any of this?"

"You were calling in your head; it was like you were screaming. I can hear things like that," he explained. "And I kind of peeked." Andor didn't look the least bit embarrassed by this admission.

The Force, she realized! Obviously, the boy was able to use the Force—or at least to hear it. Leia knew that the Antarian Rangers had had a cell on Toprawa. Traditionally the rangers had assisted the Jedi. Apparently there had been more than assistance going on, in some cases. This boy must be the result of a union between a Jedi and an Antarian Ranger. She needed to remember to tell Luke about this, after they took Han to a medcenter.

Why hadn't Luke heard her, Leia wondered. He was her brother, her twin. Surely there had to be a stronger connection between twins then there was between two ordinary Force-sensitive beings. But he hadn't heard her, and this little boy had. That didn't matter now, she reminded herself, now she needed to send Andor to get Luke and the _Falcon. _She needed to get back to Han.

Leia dropped to her knees so she could look the child straight in the eyes; she needed to make sure he understood exactly what he was supposed to do. If the ground would just stop bucking up and down beneath her, though, this would be so much easier, she thought muzzily. Leia shut her eyes and breathed in through her mouth, waiting for her dizziness to pass. She opened them again when she felt a small hand gently touch a gash on her temple.

"You're hurt, too," Andor said, with more anxiety than one would expect from a child. His hazel eyes were filled with concern.

"I'm fine," she lied. She reached for Andor's hand, but found she couldn't grasp it. That was odd. "I don't matter now, only Han—my friend—does," she told him. "You need to get to the spaceport, as fast as you can." The boy nodded solemnly. "There's a space ship; it's called the _Millennium Falcon._" While Leia described the ship and its location, she pictured it in her head, hoping he was still reading her mind. "Tell my brother and…" She paused. How was she going to explain Chewbacca to an uneducated child like Andor? "He's a big-"

"He's a Wookiee," Andor supplied for her.

Leia shook her head. How could he know that? This boy was remarkably quick—and he still must be inside her head; that was the only reasonable explanation.

"That's right," she said. "Tell them," she stopped again. _Tell them to come as quickly as possible,_ she was going to say. But how was he going to tell them, when she couldn't really figure it out herself. Look for a burned out speeder? On this world there were plenty. A copse of trees? A cliff? An empty shack? None of this was going to help Luke or Chewie find Han.

"I'm going to go back to where I left my friend," she said. Gods! Please let me find my way back, Leia prayed. "Tell my brother to use Artoo to track my bio-signs. They'll understand what you mean." She took a steadying breath, and rose to her feet. "Can you repeat to me what I told you?" she asked him.

"Don't worry," Andor said with adult-like confidence. "I know what to do." A corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. "You can trust me."

_What?! _Who was this boy? _What_ was he? She knew him, but she couldn't know him!

Suddenly, Leia found herself gripped with a ripping pain that began in her back and traveled into her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She looked down, but saw no sign of inury. That was odd, too. Andor stared at her face, watching her intently. As she stood there, gasping for breath, Leia was overwhelmed with the sense of time running out. Somehow, she knew—whether it was through the Force, or some other cosmic connection—that what she did right now, this moment, would decide whether Han lived or died.

"Andor!" Leia tried to grab his slim shoulders and again found that she couldn't touch him. No matter, he seemed to understand her desperation. "Andor," she begged; she ordered, "go and get Luke now! Tell Luke we need him now!"

Andor spun around to face the road. Then the dark haired boy slid away toward the spaceport, disappearing into the dark like a vision. Leia couldn't even hear his footsteps as he ran away.

"**Leia! Leia, can you hear me? Leia!"**

Leia felt a hand brush across her forehead. She reached up to push it away and was surprised to discover it was the hand of an adult, and that she could touch it.

"Just lay still, Leia," Luke's voice soothed. "Just rest."

She was lying awkwardly in the debris along the side of the wall she'd been sitting on earlier. Leia could feel small pieces of stone digging into her backside. Her head and shoulders were being supported by Chewbacca's muscular arms.

"Han!" Leia remembered, fear and need jostling for position inside her fuzzy brain. She looked around wildly, and tried to sit up. Her head was pounding. Luke knelt to one side of her, holding her hand, his eyes calm and concerned. She jerked her hand away from his; there wasn't time for concern now, she knew. Or calm.

"Luke we have to get to Han. He's hurt. Badly." She gulped for air. "I think he's dying." With Chewie's help, Leia managed first to sit, then to stand. Toprawa spun around her, then steadied. "When did Andor find you?" Luke just looked at her.

There was light all around them, Leia saw. "How long have you been here? How long was I out?" Leia could feel her anxiety mounting. Was it morning? It couldn't be; that would be too late. Then she realized the light was coming from the landing lights of the _Falcon_, which rested on the road some 50 meters away.

Luke looked quizzically at her. "Chewie and I found you about 15 minutes ago," he said. "You were just lying there." His lips quirked in a small smile. "You scared me," he admitted. "It looks like you hit your head pretty hard."

"That doesn't matter. What took you so long?" she asked irritably. Luke looked puzzled. "I called you and called you," Leia explained, "but you didn't hear me. But Andor did. I sent him to get you."

"But I did hear you," Luke said, ignoring the Andor question altogether. "That's how we found you. You were positively screaming through the Force. It's a good thing, too. We couldn't pick up any comlink signals."

"The speeder burned… Oh, that doesn't matter, either! There's no time!" Leia was yelling again, this time loud and clear. "We have to get to Han now!"

Chewie groaned a series of increasingly impatient questions.

"I know where he is, Chewie. We're going now." Somehow, Leia knew exactly where she was and where Han was now She hadn't traveled more than a few kilometers; it had seemed like so much farther before. And if the Force was just now telling her where to go, it had a nasty sense of humor. She looked over the rough terrain, and thought about the small clearing where she'd left Han. "I don't know if there's enough room to set the _Falcon_ down there," she said. "I think we need to walk."

Leia turned and started to walk back the way she'd come, but her physical strength seemed lacking in comparison to her desperate need to get back to Han. But now she had help. Chewbacca grabbed her arm, pulling her along, while Luke added his strength to her own through the Force. It was a good thing one of them could use it, she thought.

With Luke's lightsaber lighting their path, the trio made the trip back to the clearing in good time. If only the feeling of dread Leia felt would go away, instead of growing and growing until it threatened to swallow her whole.

When they burst into the small space where she'd left Han, Leia stopped in her tracks, unable to continue. He wasn't there!

Han wasn't where she'd left him. He was farther down the embankment now, his body in an unnatural looking heap. It was as if he'd been tossed aside, like a piece of garbage. Worse, the piece of speeder that had been protruding from his back was out of it now, and laying some distance away. Leia guessed that someone had pulled it out and tossed it. She wondered if Han had been attacked. Then she remembered the scout trooper on the speeder bike. She'd been hoping that that had been a hallucination, but apparently not. That uncaring soul must have figured that Han wasn't worth saving. Or had Han already been dead when the trooper found him? Had he bled to death, alone in the dark? Gods, that couldn't be!

"Han," she called out, "it's Leia." There was no response. Her heart pounded unevenly, her breath came in gulping gasps. She tried to reach him through the Force, to feel that familiar spark, but in her mind there was only darkness.

Leia turned empty eyes to her brother. "We're too late," she whispered.

_Author's other note: I DON'T WRITE CHARACTER DEATH! New chapter tomorrow or the next day._


	6. Chapter 6

_A quick, special, thank you to my beta jublke for your continuing help with everything, and to my nephew Jimmy, medic extraordinaire, for helping me get the trauma stuff right._

**The Longest Night**

_Chapter 6_

All Leia could hear was the pounding of her own heart. It drowned out everything around her, even as it taunted her, reminding her with every beat that she was alive, and Han was not. All she could see was Han's still form…

"Leia, I just saw him move!" Luke yelled from somewhere behind her. But she was already running, because she'd seen it too; Han's arm shifted upward, just a little, but just enough to know that he was still alive. Leia half ran, half slid down the rocky slope, coming to a stop on her knees next to him.

"Han!" She reached for his hand; but instead of the icy cold of shock, his skin was now hot and dry. Leia touched his face; under the day's growth of beard, she could feel the heat radiate off him. But he wasn't sweating. Without sweat to cool him, he was literally burning up with fever.

"Leia! We're going to get the ship, bring it as close as we can."

Leia turned to look at Luke; Chewbacca had already gone back the way they'd come. "Where will you land?" she asked. Looking around, she didn't see any place big enough for the _Falcon _to set down.

"We'll manage," her brother called over his shoulder. "Just take care of Han." Leia could hear Luke's footsteps pounding as they faded away. Then she turned back to Han.

Leia pulled at his dead weight, trying to roll him over, prepared to stop any bleeding from the puncture wound in his back. But there was much less blood than she'd expected. There was a small stain on his vest, and a larger one on his shirt, but nothing to indicate the durasteel had pierced an artery or an organ. It must have penetrated the skin and muscle, but had been stopped by Han's ribs.

That didn't matter, however, not at this point. The damage had been done. Instead of blood, fluid seeped from angry red flesh. The filthy, rusted piece of durasteel must have introduced a whole host of dirt and foriegn bacteria into Han's system. The infection would be in his bloodstream by now, Leia knew. And whoever had pulled the fragment out had sliced open his skin in the process, allowing even more germs to enter his system. In this filthy environment, it didn't take long for a deadly infection to develop.

And Leia was sure Han was going to die; she could feel it. He was deeply unconscious now; nothing she said or did to wake him had any effect. His pulse hammered in his throat, and his breathing was rapid and shallow, with a distinct wheeze. Was it possible he had already contracted pneumonia? It didn't really matter. With no water, no medication, and very little time, Han wouldn't survive. He might not survive even if they did get to a fully equipped medcenter, not at this point. Leia felt as if a fist were squeezing her heart; each hammering beat hurt her chest and her throat. She wished she could die for him—but since she couldn't, then she wished she could at least die with him. Because living without him didn't seem possible.

She turned herself around to sit beside him, and pulled his head and shoulders onto her lap. Since it seemed to ease his breathing, she cradled his head against her breast. He was heavy, and her body ached, but Leia knew she wouldn't let go; she would hold him for a long as she had to—for as long as it took. Resting her cheek on the top of his head, she brushed at his hair, comforting him like she might comfort a child. The gash on the back of his head had scabbed over. A bitter irony, that. A concussion, she thought, would have been so much easier to treat than this.

How was it, Leia wondered, that every decision she'd made this long night, everything she had done, had been wrong? She'd insisted they come to this germ infested place, when it had been a trap. She'd told Han they had to leave the shrapnel in his back, when pulling it out would have made things so much better. She'd gone for help, but she didn't do anything more than get lost, pass out, and hallucinate a child!

And the Force! If the Force was strong in her, like Luke kept insisting, why hadn't he come when she'd called? Or why hadn't Andor been real? And she hadn't imagined just any child, either. Leia could see that Andor had been Han, at least in her mind. All that had done was confuse her more. Well, she would happily consign the Force, or her portion of it, to the nine Corellian Hells, to have received some real help. But that hadn't happened, had it?

Han stirred a little in her arms and made a whispered moan.

"Han?" she asked hopefully. But there was no response. He was too far gone.

"Han, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry that I left you alone. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you." Leia gave a bitter little laugh. "You were right. We never should have trusted that guy." Leia laughed again. "We never should have come here. But I'm the princess, and I'm always right, aren't I?"

Leia shifted a little in the dirt, turning Han's head so she could see his face. She ran a gentle finger across the scar on his chin. He'd gotten it during a dock fight, he'd told her, on a cold little world where he'd been looking for some long lost treasure. She'd finally asked him about it one night, after an enthusiastic bout of love making. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She'd teased him, asking if he'd found the treasure, knowing that he hadn't. But he'd cradled her in his arms and told her he _had_ found his treasure—that she was it. As he was hers, she knew now. She'd thought the words then, but never said them. Now she wished she had.

Resting her hand on his chest, she noticed that the fever seemed to be lessening, and that his breathing wasn't as rapid. It rattled in his chest, though. What had he told her, that he felt like an engine that was cooling down? It wouldn't be long now, she thought miserably, before that engine shut down—before he shut down—just like he'd said.

She looked up at the black, empty sky. She knew that any second Luke and Chewie would be there, and that they would be too late. Leia bent down to kiss Han's slack mouth. "If I believed in miracles," she told him, "I'd pray for one now. If there were some way to save you, I'd give up everything." She kissed him again. "We could fly around the galaxy looking for treasure. Or smuggling—we could smuggle. How hard could that be after running a revolution? You could take me on the Kessel Run. Show me how fast that piece of junk of yours is with the right pilot."

Finally, she stopped talking altogether. She sat there and she rocked him. And she sobbed.

**Leia didn't move when she heard the roar of the **_**Falcon's **_**engines overhead. **She didn't move when the ship's repulsors kicked up a cloud of dust and debris as it landed on the road up above the embankment. She didn't move when the gangplank hit the ground, or when Luke and Chewbacca came pelting down the hill. Even when Luke dropped to his knees next to her, she remained motionless, refusing to disturb her precious burden.

"Leia." Luke touched her lightly on the arm.

"It's too late."

"No!"

Chewbacca threw back his head and howled, a horrible, mournful sound.

"Leia," Luke spoke to her as if she were a child. "It'll be okay. Han isn't dead." Luke could hear his friend's slow, labored breathing. Chewie moved to snatch Han from Leia, but Luke held him back with a sharp gesture. "Just let Chewie and me help you both," he begged her.

Leia turned to look at her brother, her eyes hollow, dead. "Luke, it's too late. There's nothing anyone can do anymore, I can tell." Tears ran down her white face in a steady stream. The front of Han's shirt was soaked with them.

Luke looked at Han. He could see Leia was right, even though he desperately wanted her to be wrong. But all he could see was the shell of the man his friend had been. He reached out with the Force; he could feel the light that was Han Solo, but it was fading so rapidly—soon it would be gone, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Luke took Han's hand in his own, so he could be with him in his last moments. Chewbacca squatted down next to them, exhorting his friend to be safe on the next part of his journey. Leia didn't move at all.

Leia wasn't conscious of the change inside herself, not at first. It was like a tickle, or maybe like an itch that demanded to be scratched. Princesses of Alderaan did not cry. They didn't give up; they did what needed to be done. And sometimes, occasionally, they thought about themselves—and what they needed. Right now, Leia Organa, last Princess of Alderaan, knew that she needed Han Solo. She wasn't going to give him up without a fight. Reaching down, deep inside, she summoned a piece of herself she knew was there—a power she was afraid to touch.

But she wasn't afraid now; she would do what she had to. Taking a deep breath, Leia grabbed Han's hand, twining her fingers through his. She leaned down and put her lips to his ear.

"Han Solo, you think you know everything about me, don't you?" she said, so softly only Han could hear her. "You knew I liked you before I did. You knew I respected you even when I told you I didn't. Hells, you knew I _loved _you before I did." Leia paused and tipped her head back, sending the stream of tears into her hair. "Well, you may know a lot, but you still don't know everything." Her mouth was pressed to his ear again. "I am one spoiled, stubborn, selfish Princess, and I'm used to getting what I want. I want you!" Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but Leia spoke with such vehemence, Han's hair fluttered with each of her breaths. "Since I can't live without you, you are not going to die. Do you hear me, Flyboy? Your dying is not an option; because if you die—then I die too."

Leia turned Han's face to hers and kissed his mouth fiercely, squeezing his hand so hard her battered knuckles turned white. Finally, she turned her face to one side, and rested her cheek against his.

"Han Solo, you do not have my permission to die."

At first the change was so subtle, no one noticed. Then, one by one, they saw. Han's breathing grew a little steadier, the wheeze seemed to lessen. The tiniest bit of color returned to his lips.

"Han?" Leia's question was barely audible, but Han heard it. His eyes flicked open, just for an instant, and he knew her. He _saw_ her.

It was all they needed.

Leia's head jerked up. "Get the ship ready!" she yelled, but Luke was already halfway up the gangplank. The engines were powering to full as Chewie lifted Han carefully in his arms and ran for the ship, Leia close behind.

Leia ran full speed up the gangplank. The ship was already lifting off as the hatch closed behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

_Authors note(s) I just want to thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed and/or followed this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it._

_& A huge thank you to my beta jublke. You've seen all the things I've missed and kept me on the straight and narrow. I couldn't have done it without you._

**The Longest Night**

_Epilogue_

"Your Highness, if you would just permit me to examine you! I can see you have damage to your extremities, and there may be internal damage as well." The droid seemed to sigh. "And damage to your head should never be ignored," he continued testily. The two-onebee unit was beginning to lose its pleasant bedside manner.

"Just leave me alone! _Kest! _How many times do I have to tell you? I am not leaving this room, I do not want to be examined; I am _fine! _Now, take your _kriffing,_ obsequious behavior and shove it up your _crinking _exhaust hole!"

She might have actually pulled it off, Carlist Reiikan thought, as he listened to the princess from the safety of the corridor outside bacta tank alpha. It was a combination few could manage—cursing that would make a seasoned spacer blush, and using the word obsequious. It would have been a very impressive display if only Leia's voice hadn't cracked in the middle of her speech. She was exhausted, but nothing short of a stun bolt was going to get her out of that room before they were all certain that Han Solo was out of danger. He had been undergoing bacta treatment for two days, and Leia hadn't left his side once. Reiikan was reasonably certain that Skywalker and Chewbacca had been there the entire time as well, but they'd probably managed to get some sleep. He knew Leia hadn't. Partway through the first night of treatment, Solo had taken a bad turn, setting off alarms all over the medcenter. The doctors, both human and droid, had struggled for over 20 minutes to stabilize him enough to continue the treatment. That, in turn, had been enough to scare Leia out of any sort of reasonable behavior when it came to her own health. She wasn't going to leave that room.

Something had to be done. Reiikan turned on his heel and headed for the administrative offices.

Twenty minutes later he was back, standing inside the doorway of the treatment room. Leia kept vigil next to the tank, one hand resting on the glass near where Han's hand floated in the healing solution. She swayed a little where she stood. Skywalker leaned on the wall by the other side of the tank, his eyes closed. He was either deeply entranced in the Force, or he was sleeping on his feet, the general wasn't sure which. The Wookiee stood a little further away, but his blue eyes were fixed on Solo.

Reiikan cleared his throat and Chewbacca rumbled a muted greeting in reply. Leia turned to look at her father's old friend; her face was drawn, and her eyes were dulled with exhaustion.

"I am not leaving," she began defensively.

Reiikan walked over and kissed her cheek. "No one is going to make you."

"That two-onebee…"

"…has been taken care of," the general finished.

Leia's eyes were already back on the man in the tank.

"I understand he's making good progress."

Leia gave a relieved little sigh. "If all goes well, they'll get him out tomorrow," she said.

"He'll be out tomorrow," Luke said. His eyes were open now, and certainty radiated from their depths.

Chewie asked the Jedi how he knew.

"I know," Luke said.

Chewie stared at him for a minute, then pulled his lips back in a broad Wookiee grin.

Luke grinned back. "I am going to go and get some real sleep," he yawned. "Besides, Wedge, Rogue Squadron, and half of Endor base wants me to let them know how Han is doing." Luke hugged his sister tightly, whispered _get some sleep_ in her ear, then left.

"The other half of the base, and the entire Council, wants _me_ to let them know," Reiikan said. "Your General is well loved here, Leia." When she smiled in response, her face looked almost normal. Almost. "You need to sleep, Leia. You won't do him any good if you end up in the tank next to him."

"But I'm not…"

"…leaving. I know." The general went to the door and signaled. A droid pushing a repulsor cart entered the room. On the cart was a worn sleep chair.

"That looks like the same chair, from, as the last time." Leia said, her words tumbling with her exhaustion.

"It is. Where do you want it?" Leia moved out of the way and indicated that the droid should set it up where she'd been standing.

Chewie barked out a question.

"When Han was gone, in carbonite, I couldn't sleep in my quarters," Leia explained. She looked embarrassed. "Carlist arranged for this to be put in my office."

"Try to get some rest, Leia." Reiikan kissed her again, an avuncular goodnight kiss. "He's going to be fine." The door slid shut behind him as he left.

Leia had turned her eyes back to the tank, so she didn't see Chewie until he was right beside her. The next thing she knew, she was in his hirsute arms, and then being settled into the chair.

"Chewie! I can do this myself," she objected, but the Wookiee had already turned away and was rummaging in a cabinet. He came back with a blanket that looked small in his huge hands. He spread it over the Princess, who laughed in spite of herself.

"Okay, you win!" Leia looked up at him and smiled. "Thanks, Chewie." Then she turned her head back to Han.

Chewbacca huffed out a short response before he returned to his spot across the room. Life-debts were extended to life-mates, he reminded her.

**The voices of two men talking disturbed her. **Leia was having the most wonderful dream; she was standing next to the lake where the royal palace of Alderaan stood. Everyone she loved was with her: her parents, Winter, Luke, Han, Chewbacca. Chewbacca? He didn't often appear in her dreams. But she could hear his laugh, a whuffling chuckle. Leia's eyes flew open. Chewie was laughing, right here in this room in the medcenter, she realized, not on poor lost Alderaan. He was laughing along with Luke, and—Han!

Leia pushed herself out of the sleep chair so fast, she groaned aloud. Every part of her body hurt—maybe she should have had the exam that the two-onebee unit had wanted her to have. But Han hadn't woken up after the bacta treatment, creating a new reason for concern, so when they'd moved him to this room, she'd just moved in with him. She still hadn't left. Everything ached except her heart, she realized. Seeing those hazel eyes and that crooked smile, her heart sang.

"Glad to see you finally decided to wake up, your Worship." Han's voice was creaky from lack of use, and was more tired sounding than she liked, but he sounded like Han. She'd been waiting for four days to hear that voice, and it was the most beautiful thing she'd heard in a very long time.

"Me? You're the one who's been laying around while I do all the heavy lifting, nerfherder!" Leia stood next to his bed. She had one hand on her hip, and a frown on her face, but her eyes were bright with pleasure.

"And you're cute when you snore," Han countered.

"I do not snore!"

"You do," Luke contributed helpfully, "just a little." He held up his thumb and forefinger, maybe a centimeter or two apart. Chewie barked out a deep, rumbling laugh.

"Hey! Leave her alone." Han reached for Leia's hand; she wound her fingers through his. "Only I can tell her she's not perfect," he explained. The couple glared at Luke and Chewie—a united front.

Laughing, Luke started for the sleep chair Leia had just vacated, only to find his arm firmly gripped in Chewie's long fingers. The Wookiee growled a quiet suggestion to him. Luke looked at his sister, her hand entwined in Han's, then aimed himself for the door instead of the chair.

"We'll, just, uh,…" Chewie pushed him in the back, hard. "We'll come by later," Luke finished lamely. "I'm glad you're better, Han." His blue eyes met those of his friend, all traces of awkwardness gone.

"Thanks, kid."

The door slid shut behind them.

"Do I really snore?"

"A little," Han held up his hand to show her how much; Leia slapped it back down.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked him.

"You looked like you could use the sleep." He ran his free hand over a bruise on her cheek. "You still do," he observed. "You look terrible."

"So do you."

"Uh, hey, Leia?" Han's teasing tone was gone.

"Yes, Han?" She looked at him curiously.

Han looked down at their joined hands, his hair falling forward, hiding his face. He needed a haircut, Leia thought idly.

"Uh, Luke told me what you did, uh, when I…" His voice faded away. He didn't look up.

"I didn't do anything," Leia protested. Han looked up, but now she wouldn't meet his eyes. "I didn't do anything except make matters worse. I got lost, I passed out. It was some rescue!" She laughed, using the words she'd thrown at him so long ago, but it was a bitter laugh.

"You saved my life." Leia could feel her cheeks growing warm as he continued. "You brought me back from—someplace. Someplace I've never been before. And hey, I'm not ready to go there again anytime soon!" Leia looked at him, now. His smile was a little scared. "I know how you did it, too. Luke told me."

Damn Luke, Leia thought.

"I know how much it scares you, because of who Darth Vader was." Han was careful not to say exactly what her connection was to the Dark Lord; he knew how much it still upset her. "I don't know how you do it, or how the kid does it." His smile got a little more secure. "I still don't know if I believe in it. But, thanks."

Leia felt tears build in her eyes, and blinked them away. She didn't answer him; she didn't know how. There was so much she felt, but she couldn't find the words to fit the feelings. Han squeezed her hand so hard she thought the bones might crack, then loosened his grip. He understood.

"Why don't you sit down?" he said, "you're making my neck hurt." The moment was over. Leia rolled her eyes but turned toward the chair. "No, here." Han patted the a place in his bed next to him, smiling.

Leia looked between his bed and her chair. I should sit in the chair, she thought. He's just now starting to recover; it's the right thing to do. Then she looked at his smiling face. To hells with the right thing!

"Move over," she ordered him. Leia shoved him gently on the hip, careful to avoid the healing wound, then slipped in next to him. It felt so good to be touching him, to feel his arm around her. She sighed contentedly.

"I'm sorry, Han."

"I'm not." He snuggled her a little closer. "What are you sorry about?"

"Everything." She tilted her head to look him in the eye. "You were right about everything. We shouldn't have gone to Toprawa, it was a trap. You were right," she repeated. "If I had listened to you, none of this would have happened." Her voice hitched a little. "I was so scared."

Han guided her head to rest on his shoulder, gently stroking her messy hair. "I was scared, too." She tried to lift her head, but he held it in place. "Don't move," he said, "I like it there." He twisted a loose brown lock around his finger. "I was scared, too," he said again. "But it wasn't the first time I thought it was the end."

"You almost died," Leia whispered. "It was so close."

"It wasn't the first time." He tipped her chin up. "Leia, I don't blame you." He put his finger on her lips, to keep her from arguing. "You have to do the things you do, the big things. It's your job." He smiled. "It's my job to protect you." The smile went lopsided. "And I guess it's your job to protect me."

Leia puffed out a little laugh.

"And as much fun as it sounds, I really don't want you to come smuggling with me. I'm sure you'd just find something to criticize." Leia felt her face grow warm again. "But maybe we could do the Kessel run." His scoundrel's smile brightened his gaunt features. "I'm a little out of practice, though," he warned her.

"Gods, you heard all that?"

"I hear everything you say; I just don't always listen."

Leia smacked him in the shoulder, gently.

"Oh, wanna play rough, Princess?" Han pulled his arm tighter around her, and turned her face toward his.

"Han, no. You're still weak. You spent three days in bacta," she reminded him.

"Don't remind me; I can still taste it." He waggled his tongue in disgust, but his grip didn't loosen. "I'm not that weak."

Leia felt her heart race as he kissed her, very thoroughly. No, he wasn't that weak; she felt her toes go numb.

When their lips parted, Leia reached up to finger the knife scar. "I love you, Flyboy."

"I love you, your Worship."

The door slid open twenty minutes later, admitting Wedge Antilles. He stopped dead. His two friends were sound asleep, tangled in the sheets and in each other's arms. He grinned broadly—they were both snoring.

_Fin_

_And a commercial! I realized toward the end that I created as many new questions as the ones I answered, so I am working on a sequel. Just thought you might want to know. :)_


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